Ye Fan had returned against the heavens — yet before he could unleash an even more radiant imperial brilliance, he was gone again. In the eyes of many, the glory that belonged to the Holy Physique had reached its end.

His name had shaken the world three hundred years ago. He had stood against the supreme beings within the Forbidden Zones of Life, exhausting his blood until death claimed him — yet his radiance had split across time and space for three hundred years, illuminating an entire era. He had come back to life, but it was the lowest valley in a life of dramatic highs and lows; his body harboring a hidden ailment, he faded into seclusion in the present day, three hundred years later.

This marked the end of an era belonging to the Holy Physique.

Such was the view of many. Simply being alive was already defying the heavens — what more could be asked? To wrestle back from the heavens that flawless battle form, which had once held the promise of becoming an imperial body?

“What a pity!” This was the final quiet sigh that escaped people’s lips.

Many had feared him, wishing desperately for him to fall. Many had revered him, hoping to see him ascend to the absolute pinnacle. An outcome like this left the majority of people sighing.

Whatever might be said, the Holy Physique Ye Fan had lived a life of dominance. He had never once been defeated when facing the greatest talents of his generation. He possessed a truly undefeated past; his magnificent name had shaken the cosmos; he had left an indelible mark upon this era. There had been a stretch of time that belonged to him and him alone.

After his departure, great winds arose. Blood splattered across the path to emperorhood. The wars at the nine layers of the heavenly gates on the Imperial Road officially entered a state of terrifying ferocity, growing ever more brutal. The contest on the path to becoming Dao would continue.

From this day forward, Ye Fan would gradually fade from people’s sight. The road ahead would belong to those most capable of conquest and strength — among them, a new Great Emperor might one day be born.

On the Ancient Human Road, Ye Fan had returned. To reach the star region where the Celestial Court resided, one had to pass through here. This time he did not come from the first gate; instead, he traveled in reverse from the final gate. So many years had passed — he wished to take this opportunity to look once more upon the road he had once walked.

This road had not yet closed. Talented people of the human race still came here to temper themselves, to break from their cocoons like butterflies, to achieve an important transformation in their lives.

Gazing upon those faces — still holding ideals, still carrying the freshness of youth — Ye Fan was moved by many feelings. He had once been one of them, striving ceaselessly toward his goals.

Yet now he felt somewhat weary. Looking at them was like looking at his former self across the years — in that moment, he laughed, sighed, and felt the carefree arrogance of youth, before finally breaking into a great peal of laughter that abruptly ceased.

Yesterday’s world remains the same; to look back now is to find centuries have passed.

Some turned to look sideways — gazing at their group of three, all of them revealing expressions of surprise.

“Hey, look at that bald one — doesn’t he seem like the most notorious wandering monk from the past three hundred years?”

“Who is that person? Why does he look a little familiar? Oh — he resembles the statue of the Holy Physique Ye Fan. That can’t be right — he looks exactly like it. Good heavens!”

“What is going on? That person — he looks identical to the divine statue of the Human Race’s Holy Physique. Am I seeing things? And he has the wandering monk accompanying him — could he be…? A god!”

Ye Fan had fallen in death three hundred years ago, buried in his time — known to all races across the cosmos. Some places had erected divine statues of him. As of now, only those within the gates of the One True Road knew he had returned alive. Though the news was destined to spread, the people here had not yet heard.

Throughout the various regions of the cosmos, people had not yet received word, for it was exceedingly difficult to send messages out from the imperial gates — it would take a considerable stretch of time yet.

Ye Fan did not linger for long. Along the way he paused only briefly at each stop, giving no one the time to confirm or verify, causing only a small ripple of commotion.

At the Fiftieth City of the Human Race, he stayed somewhat longer — yet in this place where the Holy Physique and the Tyrant Physique had once vied for supremacy, he did not find the full-bearded escort envoy Zhao Gongyi. This place had changed hands; he had departed many years ago.

Traveling in reverse along this road, beyond those youthful faces filled with hope and fighting for their dreams, Ye Fan also encountered more than a few familiar faces.

These were people from the same era as him — those who had once broken through the Ancient Road together, who had fought bloody battles through one gate after another. Now they had become guards in the sacred cities of various regions along the Human Race’s Ancient Road, having set down their own dreams.

Just as Ye Fan had seen those old soldiers when he had once stormed through the human ancient gates — now, among people of his own generation, some had also chosen this path. They stood before city gates, silently watching those who came after them.

Ye Fan did not disturb a single one of them. Accompanied by Huahua and Blood Crow, he passed through quietly, waves of feeling surging in his heart. These were once outstanding heroes — and some of them, their hearts had already grown old. They would occasionally gaze into the distance, looking toward that most distant gate. Did the dream still remain?

For most of the time, they only fell silent — patrolling, guarding the city gates. This was their duty. Perhaps there was also reluctance — otherwise, why had they not left? Staying here, enduring the torment of loneliness — what manner of feeling must that be?

At the Second City of the Human Race, Ye Fan stepped out through the city gate without a word. He simply turned back and gazed deeply for a long moment. There stood an old soldier — his body already stooped, his eyes already clouded — watching his retreating figure.

Ye Fan gave a slight nod, but said no more, and then walked away into the distance, departing from the Human Race’s Ancient Road.

That person was Guan Cheng. He had not died. He had remained here all along, and occasionally in the cool winds of deep night he would breathe out a quiet sigh, gazing toward the road that led to an end he could never reach.

During the dark upheaval, he had lost the greater part of his life essence and survived with great difficulty. What remained to him now was only memory. His true life had never been colorful — but one could live in dreams; there, one could look forward to things, find beauty, find hope, find a future.

“You are still alive — yet why is there no longer the fluctuation of laws? Even you could not take that step and walk forward. This life, this existence…”

His back was no longer straight, no longer possessing the heroic bearing of former days. His hair was white and gray, his voice aged and feeble — yet those clouded and dim eyes could still discern the terrible state of Ye Fan’s body.

In the Village of the Heavens, amid the pristine sanctuary of the gods, fallen blossoms scattered through the air. Every day, snowy white and crystalline petals drifted down, for many snow orchid trees had been planted here, speaking of the sorrow of life and death.

On this day, a massive burial mound suddenly exploded. Chaotic rocks pierced the sky, clouds of dust surged toward the heavens, primordial energy billowed forth — and a great cauldron flew out, from which ten thousand streams of dark-yellow light cascaded downward.

“What is going on? What happened?!”

Within the Celestial Court, within one magnificent palace after another, many powerful beings simultaneously opened their eyes. Beams of light, imposing and awe-inspiring, all turned toward the same direction.

“It’s the mausoleum — something has happened there!”

“It’s that — it’s actually that — the Myriad Things Mother Qi Cauldron has burst open the great burial mound!”

Buried underground for three hundred years, it had remained completely still, as though it had died together with Ye Fan. Yet the tremors it now emanated were so violent, the divine spirit within it powerfully resurrecting, that the entire headquarters of the Celestial Court was trembling. Rocks tumbled from many mountain peaks. Numerous floating islands suspended in the air and the various towers and palace halls all simultaneously emitted light — formation markings illuminated, rune characters flickered — resonating with the cauldron’s resurrection, tracing the patterns of the Great Dao.

Beneath an immense and majestic mountain, there stood an ancient tree that reached toward the heavens, swaying out ten thousand streams of jade-green light and scattering all manner of auspicious radiance.

Beneath the tree, orchids breathed out rosy mists, phoenix grass spread its fragrance, five-colored splendor shimmered everywhere. Upon a large slab of greenish-black stone, a great black dog lay sprawled lazily, listless and dispirited.

At that moment, it suddenly pricked up its ears. Its copper-bell eyes widened perfectly round, revealing an expression of shock — it could scarcely believe what its senses were telling it.

“Woof!”

A single bark from the dog shook the Celestial Court, echoing across the vast and boundless earth. Then it directly leaped up, every strand of silky fur on its body standing on end.

“You young ones — an unrivaled enemy has come! Prepare for battle!”

“What? An unrivaled enemy is invading? No — I can clearly sense a familiar aura.” The Dual Sovereign of Silver and Blood rushed to the base of the ancient sky-reaching tree, the quickest to react.

“Prepare — to repel the great enemy!” The Black Sovereign bellowed.

“Charge!” The Celestial Court erupted. From countless mountain peaks and from the many floating islands and great palaces suspended in the sky, countless celestial soldiers and heavenly generals came flooding out. War drums thundered as they charged outward to do battle.

Upon one divine island, the jade cup in Little Sparrow’s hand fell to the ground. Her entire body trembled with excitement. Tears rolled silently down her face, and then she burst out of the jade palace and flew out toward the Celestial Court’s exterior.

“Divine Son — it’s the Divine Son who has returned!”

From another direction, the old assassin Qi Luo’s face filled with utter disbelief. He opened his mouth but no words came. One eye blazed with sharp brilliance; the other was incomparably hollow, with sun, moon, and stars rising and falling in its depths.

“He’s back — he’s back!” His voice trembled. He stood up, and even his fingers were shaking.

“It’s him — it’s him — my good brother has returned!” From another high peak, Li Heishui leaped up from his meditation platform in a single bound, looked up to the sky and gave a long cry, overcome with profound grief and joy alike, his whole body shuddering.

Before a waterfall, a wild man sat bare-chested beneath the cascade. His bronze skin gleamed with a metallic luster; his powerful muscles coiled like wild dragons.

Dongfang Ye let out a great roar that shattered the long sky — sobbed twice — then burst into laughter. He stepped out of the waterfall pool with great strides, and every step that fell caused the heaven and earth to shake, making the mountains and rivers tremble.

“Ahh…”

A cry of anguish, a howl of grief — the Holy Emperor’s Son shattered a nearby rocky mountain. He too was in the Celestial Court. He pierced through the clouds and soared upward, his entire body blazing with golden light as it surged, and he said: “My good brother — Ji Zi is gone, yet you have finally returned alive for me to see! Come to me!”

The Monkey turned a somersault and came charging over, reaching extreme speed in an instant.

In another hall, a young woman in purple robes had previously held formidable cultivation — yet now she stumbled and staggered. Barefoot, her crystalline white jade feet bare, she came running out.

Her face was covered in tear-stains, glistening teardrops flowing unceasingly down. She ran on bare feet, murmuring softly, not daring to believe any of this — filled with hope, filled with surprise, filled with dread — terrified that this might all be a dream.

“Ye Fan — is it really you?!” Ji Ziyue could no longer hold back, and broke into loud sobbing.

Too many people, too much commotion — the Celestial Court shook. Countless men and horses moved together.

Ye Fan stood before the Celestial Court. What he felt first was not anything else — but the Black Sovereign’s peculiar welcome. It led an endless army charging toward him.

“Your Supremely Exalted Majesty the Black Sovereign — are you commanding us to slay that great enemy ahead? But… the Monk Huahua seems to be at his side,” one heavenly general said in confusion.

“That’s right — repel the enemy ahead, and beat that bald monk at the same time!” The Black Sovereign issued the command.

Yet soon, voices of bewilderment arose among the celestial soldiers and generals: “Your Majesty — that person… seems to look exactly like the stone statues we’ve seen. Could he be—?!”

“Damn it, you pack of scoundrels — you’re rebelling now? Even I dare to be struck?!” Huahua had barely opened his mouth when a volley of magical treasures came raining down.

Ye Fan laughed. He was not angry. Instead, his eyes grew somewhat wet. Still the same Black Sovereign as ever — still the same crowd of people as ever. They had all come.

“Ye Fan!”

Men and women, young and old — a great crowd came rushing toward him. Some wept aloud, some laughed loudly, grief and joy intertwined, as the crowd surged forward together.